


Toil And Trouble

by allfifteenknuckles



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Roommates, double dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfifteenknuckles/pseuds/allfifteenknuckles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We should double!" Ian suggests.  <br/>Why, why, <i>why?</i> He doesn’t have a date to begin with. <i>Fuck. Please say no, please say no,</i> Ian thinks to himself. He is nervously chewing his bottom lip.  <br/>"Sounds great!" Mickey exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice pitching to a whole new octave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toil And Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [pyleas](http://pyleas.tumblr.com) for betaing <3

"So we're still on for Friday, right?" Mickey asks him. And Ian could have easily said yes. Because he  _loves_  their Fridays. They just sit on their ugly brown couch, put a movie on, and munch on buttery popcorn. Sometimes their hands brush in the popcorn bowl, their knees knock as they fight for space, and on good nights they even wake up the next morning with their arms around each other (it's cuddling, even if Mickey doesn't want to call it that). 

But Ian is  _so_  annoyed with this ridiculous stalemate that they are stuck in. It  _sucks_  to be in love with your roommate. Which is why he decides to blurt out something he really shouldn't. 

"Actually, I have a date," Ian says proudly. This is a  **lie**. Oh god. Such a lie. But Mickey doesn’t miss a beat. 

"Well, what a fucking coincidence. Me too," Mickey says. 

And that kind of stung. Mickey  _never_ dated. Usually it was random fucks that Ian only figured out about because Mickey would come home an hour later than he was let off work. So this guy must be incredibly important.  

"Really?" Ian asks. (Just to be sure. He  _doesn't_ care.) 

"Yeaup!" Mickey says, scratching the back of his neck. That’s a tick. Mickey only does that when he's nervous. This  _new_   _guy_ makes Mickey nervous. And that just annoys Ian on a whole new level. 

"We should double!" Ian suggests.  

Why, why,  _why_? He doesn’t have a date to begin with. Fuck.  _Please say no,_ please _say no,_ Ian thinks to himself. He is nervously chewing his bottom lip.  

"Sounds great!" Mickey exclaims with enthusiasm, his voice pitching to a whole new octave. Argh, Ian already hates this new guy for making Mickey feel all these feelings. And making his voice do all these weird things.  

"So eight sounds good? At Antonio's?" Ian continues. Well, if he's going to dig himself into a hole, might as well make it the widest and deepest hole he'll ever dig.  

"Sounds fucking peachy," Mickey replies. 

"Great," Ian says, putting on the widest (and fakest) smile he can muster. 

"Cool," Mickey nods, before he leaves for his room. And Ian just cocks his head and stares at that  _ass_ because goddamnit that ass just deserves to be stared at (by  _him,_  not by whatever creep Mickey is apparently dating). 

Ian sighs to himself. He's going to have to go date hunting. 

* 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  _Why_ would Mickey Milkovich agree to go on a date? Especially a date that has Ian dating another person. Maybe the brunet just had a desire for self-inflicting pain. Right now, his first priority is _finding_ a date (in two and a half days no less!). Mickey really shouldn’t have goaded Ian, but it made him physically ill thinking of Ian spending his Friday night with someone besides him. On the bright side, at least this way he still gets to spend the night with Ian (and then he reminds himself that seeing someone else’s tongue in Ian’s mouth is going to make it the worst night of his entire _life_ ).

Mickey opens his phone and scrolls down his pathetically empty contact list, until is eyes finally reaches a somewhat acceptable person. _Duncan Mayne._ He will just have to do. The biggest problem with this guy, though, is that Mickey is pretty sure Duncan has a really big boner for him (Mickey is not being obnoxious, he’s simply stating a fact). But a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.

Mickey sighs to himself as he sends out a quick text to Duncan. Now all he is praying for is that hopefully Ian will call of this whole double-date sham. Besides, the only person he would ever want to date is Ian Gallagher.

*

Umbert Davidson is not typically the kind of person Ian would consider having a relationship with. He had a certain charm, for sure. It’s just that he was slightly pompous, a bit sanctimonious, and very, very insufferable. All in all, a _perfect_ date. But Ian didn’t have much of a choice because this was such a last-minute request.

As Ian settled into his seat, with Umbert on one side and Mickey on the other, he took a good look at Mickey’s date (Tucan, or Pecan, or whatever his name was).

“So Vulcan, how do you know Mickey?” Ian asks him innocently.

“It’s _Duncan_. And I work with Mickey,” Duncan states politely. He’s a good-looking man, with defined cheekbones, a strong jaw and his black hair in a quiff. It’s so clear that _Duncan_ wants to be with Mickey, and Ian is beginning to dread that he’s lost his chance.

“So you’re an operations researcher too?” Ian inquires.

“No, no. I’m in finance. I just work closely with Mickey,” Duncan says with a smile. _Closely?_ Ian hated the sound of that.

“That’s… interesting,” Ian gulped.

“It really is! And Mickey’s just so good ensuring that everything runs smoothly. He’s perfect,” Duncan says with an earnest expression that has Mickey’s ears turning red. Ian doesn’t need Duncan to tell him how perfect Mickey is. He _knows_ Mickey’s perfect. Ian’s hands clench around his glass of wine as he starts drinking.

“Well, that sounds like an exciting field, I’m sure. Can you make a decent living out of what you do?” Umbert inquires. And the rest of the table is a bit shocked. Mickey frowns so hard Ian is afraid his face will get stuck like that.

“The fuck are you implying?” Mickey asks defensively.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I have a friend in operations research and she said she makes about eighty a year, and I just wanted to, umm, _verify_ if that is common,” Umbert replies with a shrug.

“Well take your inquiries and shove it up Red’s ass,” Mickey snarls at him. Ian knows that Umbert was being a shit, but he has to calm this situation down.

“Look, Mick, he meant no harm,” Ian tells Mickey. And the brunet just stares at Ian with a hurt look on his face. Ian feels terrible and all he wants to do is console Mickey, but before he gets a chance, Duncan intertwines his fingers between Mickey’s.

“Here, Ian, have some of this,” Umbert says as he shoves his stupid fettucini into Ian’s mouth. Why the hell does his date think he needs to be _fed_? He’s a perfectly capable twenty-two year-old man. Mickey seems to agree, since he can’t help but glare at Umbert. This whole thing is such a fucking disaster.

“Thank you,” Ian grunts as he uses a napkin to wipe down all the alfredo sauce from his chin. He desperately needs more wine.

*

“So Tucan, how much can you lift?” Ian questions nonchalantly.

“Stop being a dick,” Mickey attempts to whisper to Ian. The redhead was being so intolerable tonight, that Mickey sometimes wondered what he saw in Ian.

“That’s an incredibly trans-misogynistic insult,” Umbert tells Mickey. And really, _really?_ This is the guy that Ian is picking over him? At least Ian has the decency to look properly embarrassed by his choice in dates. Mickey just rolls his eyes and reminds himself to keep calm.

“I’m sorry, that was fucking rude of me,” Mickey snaps at Umbert. Apparently his anger is showing, though, because Duncan puts his hand on Mickey’s arm and starts to slowly caress it. Mickey can feel his anger start to dissipate, and he knows that if he _tries_ hard enough, he could really like Duncan.

In theory, Duncan is perfect. He is so attractive, with his hazel eyes and stupid stubble, but Mickey doesn’t really have the heart to pursue him. The brunet knows that everything he wants always comes down to the redhead on his other side.

The table suddenly shakes as Ian grabs on to Umbert’s tie, tugs him closer, and launches a kiss at him. Mickey clenches his fists, and sighs in resignation. His life sucks and the redhead is probably too good for him anyways. Suddenly Duncan looks a lot more appealing.

Ian perches back into his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, as though he’s accomplished something. Mickey restrains himself from kicking this dumbass.

“So, desert anyone?” Duncan suggests in an attempt to break the silence.

“You know what Duncan? I just Dun _can’t_ right now,” Ian slurs out. That’s when Mickey realizes that Ian has had too much to drink. The kid can barely handle a bottle of beer with his meds. Mickey knows that he should have realized sooner, but he was so distracted with the Duncan-Umbert-Ian drama that was unfolding in front of him, he had forgotten to pay proper attention to Ian.

“Ian… relax,” Mickey mumbles as he rests his right hand on Ian’s shoulder. Ian leans into his touch and Mickey’s heart flutters. 

“Should we get the check then?” Duncan asks. The rest of them quickly agree. Saying that this dinner is a disaster is probably an understatement, and Mickey just can’t wait to get out of here. He’s tired of _all_ of these people.

As they all grab their coats, Duncan grabs Mickey’s hand. “I had a really great time tonight.”

Mickey doesn’t know if Duncan’s incredibly polite or just really wants to get into Mickey’s pants tonight. Before he can answer, though, Ian puts his arms around Mickey’s shoulders and slumps his head down to rest. “Mick… I’m really drunk. And tired. Can we go home?”

Mickey sighs to himself. “I’m sorry, Duncan. I gotta take this kid home. I’ll call you later.”

He gathers Ian around him and calls for an Uber.

*

Ian knows he did a bad thing when he shoved Umbert away in time to break Pelican and Mickey up. But he had to.

“You’re such a cockblock, Gallagher,” Mickey scolds him as they climb up the stairs to their apartment. Ian’s stumbling all over the place, but Mickey has a tight grip on him.

As they enter the apartment, Mickey jostles Ian onto their couch, and goes to grab some water for him. The brunet then shoves a loaf of bread into his mouth, while muttering to himself.

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Ian states in his sincerest voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey murmurs. There’s a knock on the door and Mickey rushes to go get it. Ian’s trying to make out who it is, and he recognizes that slippery, sweet voice that belonged to Pecan. He _hates_ Pecan. He really, really hates Pecan. Ian struggles to get up, but his determination wins and trudges towards the front door.

“Tell Dunkin’ Dough _nuts_ here that you won’t be needing _his_ nuts anytime soon,” Ian attempts to whisper as he puts his hands firmly on Mickey’s waist.

“Ian…” Mickey says as he tries to elbow himself out of Ian’s grip.

“Are you two?” Duncan asks, concerned.

“No,” Mickey states.

“ _Yes_ ,” Ian argues. He’s a bit out of it but he _needs_ Mickey to know.

“What?” Mickey asks as he turns towards Ian.

“I’ll just, umm…go,” Duncan murmurs as Ian slams the door. _Huzzah! Victory!_

“Ian. What did you mean?” Mickey asks softly.

“I meant that I am so, so, so in love with you and I don’t care how pretty Duncan is, I _won’t_ let him win without letting you know,” Ian rushes out.

*

“Wait—you what?” Mickey frowns. Ian can’t possibly mean that. The stupid ginger must be completely hammered.

“…In love with you,” Ian enunciates slowly, like he’s talking to a small child. “You know, the whole John-Cusack-boombox-over-my-head _in love._ And I’m sorry I ruined your chances with Pelican over there but _I_ want to be the one who makes you all nervous and fluttery—“

Mickey cuts him off, kissing him hard. Ian staggers back a little, and Mickey puts his arms around Ian’s waist to steady him.

Mickey has never been into the whole kissing thing, but at this very moment he is reevaluating his entire stance. Ian’s mouth is _amazing_ and Ian seems to know exactly what Mickey wants. Ian bites at Mickey’s lip, drawing a low groan out of the brunet.  They stumble towards the couch, and Ian’s fidgeting with the buttons on Mickey’s shirt, trying to yank Mickey’s shirt off while their lips are still attached.

Ian groans in frustration. “Oh my _god_. Get that thing off,” he says, frowning at the shirt like it’s mere presence was offending him.

Mickey huffs out a laugh but kindly obliges, tossing his shirt off to the side. Ian launches himself at Mickey again, straddling his waist and leaving a trail of wet kisses along his jawline. He nuzzles Mickey’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so good, Mick. _So good._ You have no idea how long I’ve been fantasizing about this, I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for—“

“Ian? Ian!” Mickey turns his head awkwardly to look at his roommate, who is lying on top of him, face still buried in Mickey’s neck and snoring slightly.

Mickey groans. _Unbelievable_. He inhales deeply, willing himself to calm down. He’s half-hard and Ian’s fallen asleep on top of him in the most uncomfortable position ever.

“Get off me, you giant goof,” Mickey says, but its no use, Ian is clearly dead to the world. Mickey sighs, before gently untangling himself from Ian. He retrieves a blanket and a trash can for Ian, draping the blanket on his stupid ginger before bending down and running his fingers through Ian’s hair. Ian looks so different like this, all quiet and peaceful, unable to wreak havoc on Mickey’s life. Ian grumbles something low and incoherent, and Mickey chuckles at how adorable his idiot looks.

“What was that mumbles?” the brunet murmurs.

“I really do love you, Mick. _So much_.”

*

Ian wakes up to the worst headache in the world. Why the fuck is there _sunlight_ in his room? He always closes the curtains. As Ian stretches his legs out, they hit the armrest of the couch and he realizes he must have fallen asleep in the living room. And all of a sudden he gets flashes from the night before. Vivid, _vivid_ flashes.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes. Didn’t even need a kiss,” Mickey quips from behind him. He’s carrying buttered toast, Advil and some water towards Ian.

“Well, a kiss might just cure this migraine?” Ian asks. He hopes Mickey doesn’t regret last night.

“Doubt it—“

“Listen, Mickey. About last night…” Ian starts, and then takes a deep breath. “I _meant_ it. It sucks that it took all that liquid courage to get me to say those words. But I’m not taking it back.”

“Okay,” Mickey says, his ears turning red.

“Can I—can I kiss you?” Ian probes uncertainly.

“If you must,” Mickey grumbles as he settles down on the couch.

“I really must,” Ian says as he cups Mickeys face and brings their lips together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that wasn't completely terrible :)
> 
> If you want to throw apples (or roses) at me, come find me at [allfifteenknuckles.tumblr.com](http://allfifteenknuckles.tumblr.com)


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